


Protective Detail

by RollingPeaches



Series: Get Shot and Fuckin' Die [6]
Category: Sand Castle (2017)
Genre: Cussing, F/M, Mentions of dead animals, Swearing, There's some arguing, consequences of the cartel arrest, lane doesn't have the patience for this, specifically rats, syverson maybe does some illegal sleuthing, using military technology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-17 02:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19944892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RollingPeaches/pseuds/RollingPeaches
Summary: Detective Lane faces the aftermath of the public cartel arrest; Captain Syverson tries not to have a hemorrhage.





	1. Rats

**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of dead rats, a more detailed summary of their death in a later chapter.

In the weeks following the cartel bust, which was highly coordinated between multiple agencies, all hinging on that tox report, which was _solid_ , they had their work cut out for them. The DEA was of course there because of the drugs and weapons, FBI as well, plus a few felonious murders. She and Reece were there because of their murder victim. Everything went off fine. But she started getting a few threats here, a few threats there. And honestly, that wasn’t too big of a deal. It probably wasn’t even the cartel, or anyone cartel related, probably some whack job who saw her on the news. Where she drew the line though, was fucking with her Jeep. They’d keyed the crap out of it, slashed her tires, and _shredded_ her soft top. She called in the whole crime scene unit. Fuck this. They didn’t touch her baby.

Hughes and Reece were staring down at her. She’d told them about the threats as they had been made, gave them the evidence, which she had collected herself. The staring was because she didn’t want a protection detail.

“It’s just some crazy guy, it’s not the actual cartel,” she exclaimed.

“Crazy.” Hughes reiterated, “the key point in that, is ‘crazy’. You don’t fuck with crazy, you’re getting a detail.”

“But—”

“Not a suggestion, Lane.”

She deflated, _fine_. There was a volunteer list for people to join the protective detail. She was hoping it was a short list. She wrapped on Hughes door at the end of the day to see a familiar man sitting across from her Captain—Birdy. _Shit_.

“Lane,” Hughes stood, as did Birdy. “Meet your first round of protective detail.”

_Damnit,_ there was no way she’d be able to give Birdy the slip, the man was a former Marine, and her former boss. She sent Hughes a glare.

“He volunteered, Lane, play nice,” Hughes condescended.

She turned her glare to Birdy, but it turned into a grin, “What’d’you want for dinner, Bird?”

“Pizza? Chinese?”

“Pizza.”

“Glorious, let’s go,” she paused, “You’re driving, my car’s at the shop.”

“No problem,” Birdy nodded, sending a glance to Hughes, before striding out. She stuck her tongue out at Hughes and followed after Birdy.

*****

After they’d picked up their pizza, sides, and beverages of choice, they made it back to her place. Birdy did a quick, but thorough, sweep of the house, then they settled down and ate. Halfway through her second slice of pizza her phone buzzed. She glanced at it to see…Syverson’s face, it was a video call.

She accepted the call quizzically, “Hey?”

He grinned, “What’s that look?”

“A video call?” she asked, “How did you—”

“It’s classified,” he informed with a rueful look. “How’s your day?”

“Good,” she nodded, taking a bite of pizza, “Got pizza, watching a movie. How’s yours?”

He shrugged, “Same shit, different day. Shaw got stabbed by a kid yesterday.”

She blinked, “What?”

“Tiny little kid, like seven, stabbed ‘im in the arm.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he saw the medic.”

Saw the medic, not a doctor, perfect, that was great.

“What happened to the kid?” she asked, but Syverson went deadly still, “Who’s in your house?”

She blinked, for a moment panicking that the whack job was in her house, she peered over her shoulder to see Birdy, heading for the kitchen, “Oh, that’s Birdy, he’s on my protective detail.”

He stared, the silence took a scary edge, as his eyes went wonky and intense, “Okay,” he nodded, “Let’s go back, I’m gonna ask you how your day is again, and this time, you’re gonna explain why you have a protective detail.”

Jasmine’s gaze slanted to the right, Birdy was laughing, full on _belly_ laughing. “Shit girl,” he appeared in the doorway, “You found the one man who’s gonna manage to shake the sass outta you.”

“Shut up, Birdy.”

“’bout time, too, with your reckless ass.”

“That,” Syverson pointed, “I’m not the only one calling you reckless, mean’s you should probably consider it a character flaw.”

Birdy rounded the couch and bent down so he could be in the frame, “Shit, man, the number of times I had to pick her up by the kitten scruff while she was on SWAT, I lost track.”

Syverson looked like he wanted to hear more, which he definitely was not going to. She stood up abruptly, “Okay,” she grabbed her plate and carefully balanced her drink, heading down the hall.

She muttered out, “We’re gonna take this into the bedroom,” she turned towards Birdy, “Where you are not welcome. Help yourself to the exit, though.” She slammed the door shut with her foot and eased her plate and beverage down onto the bedside table and perched on the bed.

“So…uh,” she glanced around, anywhere but at the screen of Syverson’s face.

“Jesus, Lane, spill.”

“So, you saw the cartel bust?” she asked, finally making eye contact. He nodded. “I’ve been getting a couple threats,” she shrugged.

His brows slowly crept up his forehead, “Threats. From the cartel.”

“But it’s not _really_ from the cartel,” she rushed out.

“And you know this, because they signed and dated it with a DNA sample included?”

“Well,” her gaze shifted away, “No,” she brought her gaze back to him, “But, that’s not how the cartel operates, if they were gonna get even, they wouldn’t take three weeks, writing poorly written notes to me, and jacking up my Jeep.”

“They fucked up your car?”

“Keyed it, slashed my tires, _and_ the soft top.”

He sat back, hand running over the top of his buzzcut hair, then down his face and over his beard, he looked…stressed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t need this on top of all your other shit going on right now.”

He stared at her, “What?”

“You look stressed,” she pointed out.

More wonky intense eyes, “I look stressed, Lane. Because my woman is being targeted either by a nutjob or a drug cartel, she doesn’t have a cautious bone in her body, and I’m across a fucking ocean.”

“That, would be a tad stressful,” she murmured, but really, she was stuck on him calling her his ‘woman’. He breathed out then ordered, “let me talk to this Birdy-guy.”

“What? No.”

“If he’s in charge of your detail, I wanna talk to him.”

“He’s the best, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll determine that once I talk to him.”

“You aren’t talking to him. He’s a former Marine, he’s current SWAT, it’s fine, everything’s fine.”

“Jasmine,” then he slanted his gaze away and muttered, “You know what? I’ll just get his information and call him.”

She stared, “You can’t do that.” Could he?

Syverson’s blue eyes came back to her and he grinned dangerously, “You wanna bet?”

Her eyes narrowed, “Fine,” she countered.

He grinned, then hung up. Five minutes later, she heard Birdy’s voice. He had to be shitting her. Birdy wasn’t even his real name, there was no way he got his information in five minutes. She flung her door open and made her way to the kitchen. Birdy was on the phone. His side of the conversation wasn’t too enlightening, simply, “Yes. No. Yeah,” and some grunts.

Birdy turned from peering out the window to take her in, then he grinned. _Sonovabitch_. She stormed forward intent on snatching his phone, but he shot his free arm out, and planted his hand on her collarbone, keeping her at arm’s length, then he turned her and waved his hand dismissively, like he was sending her back to bed without her midnight snack. She stomped to the doorframe and leaned against it, arms crossed, and glaring at his stupid bald head.

He was still grinning, of course he was loving this. “Yeah, uh-huh,” then his grin turned positively shit-eating, “My pleasure,” then he held the phone out to her, she snatched it and brought it to her ear, still glaring at Birdy. “Yes,” she clipped out.

“Birdy seems alright,” it was almost as if she had told him that. If only there weren’t an ocean between them, then she could shoot him.

“Now you owe me double,” he taunted.

“I didn’t bet anything.”

“You agreed, you said fine.” This was true, didn’t mean she was going to agree to owing him two things or like it.

“Goodnight, Syverson,” she stated, then promptly hung up and chunked Birdy’s phone on the counter. She made it back to her bedroom to hear her phone buzzing. She huffed a breath and answered it without a word.

Syverson’s face appeared again. “Don’t be pissed off.”

She bit off her childish, _don’t tell me what to do_. “Honestly?” she snapped out, “I’m not sure if I’m more pissed that you couldn’t just take my word for it or if what you did was probably illegal.”

“It wasn’t illegal,” he stated.

“Yeah, sure,” she snapped, putting the phone down so she could change and all he would see was the ceiling.

“It wasn’t, I mean, not on my end, by your standards maybe, but I won’t get in trouble for it on my end.”

“Great, so then that leaves my being pissed that you can’t take my word for it.”

“Jasmine,” he ground out.

“What?” she countered.

“This would be a lot easier if I could _look_ at you.”

“I’m changing,” she bit out, tossing her unlaced boots to the side and yanking off her socks. Granted, it’s not like he hadn’t seen it all before.

“Hey,” his voice was low and dangerous, deadly calm. She snatched up the phone and brought her face into view. He continued in his dangerous voice, “I’m roughly, six thousand miles away, I have no _fucking_ control over here, so yeah, I’m gonna check up on the people potentially keeping you alive, and make sure they’re the _next_ best thing. And no, I’m not gonna take your word for it, because, we’ve already established, you’re reckless.”

Okay, so, maybe she was being a bit of an asshole. Her gaze flicked away.

“Seriously?” he grumbled out.

She brought her gaze back, “I’m sorry,” she muttered, he bent his head, hand up, then lifted his head, hand covering his mouth, he was fucking smiling. Her eyes narrowed, _dick_. She dropped the phone back on top of her dresser peeled her jeans off, followed by her shirt. She opened a drawer pulling out a pair of shorts, shoved that drawer closed, then paused, her underwear drawer was open, she closed it, then opened it again, “Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking shitting me,” she growled out.

“Lane?”

“Fucking _gross_. Ew,” she spun in a circle and waved her hands a bit.

“Jasmine,” he bit out.

She picked up her phone just as her door was flung open. “Jesus, Birdy, fucking knock!” she bit out grabbing for her disposed of top, Birdy about-faced but didn’t leave.

“Why’re you yelling?” he demanded.

“Could you maybe get out, and I’ll put some fucking clothes on, and I’ll tell you?!”

“Do we need a CSI?”

“Yes, we need a fucking CSI, close the goddamned door.” He stepped out and closed the door, leaving Jasmine to realize she was clutching her phone to her practically naked chest. _Fuck_. _Everything_.

“Shut up,” she ordered, removing the phone from her boobs. His grin was amused, but he still looked stressed. She dropped the phone on her bed and yanked on the spandex shorts, then went and found the sweatshirt she’d stolen from him and pulled that on. She eyed her bed with trepidation, she shouldn’t touch anything else, she’d already touched enough, she sighed, picked up the phone and opened her bedroom door with as minimal contact as possible. Birdy looked up expectantly, “It’s rats,” she stated, “Lots and lots of dead rats.”

She padded to the couch and sat down.

“Lane,” Syverson called from the phone she had a death grip on.

Head in her hand, she didn’t look up, “An ‘I told you so’, is not going to make me feel better.”

“I was gonna ask if you were good,” he countered.

“No, I’m not good. I have dead rats in my underwear drawer, now I have to go buy all new underwear, those were all carefully selected, and now I have to go hunt them down, did you know they discontinue underwear lines?” she demanded, “Some of those I’m never gonna find again, and I have them for very specific outfits, which means, if I can’t find the underwear, I can’t wear the outfit.”

Silence, then, “I’m sorry about your underwear.”

She glanced up to see him fighting a grin.

“I don’t like rats,” she stated. That was understandable, particularly since the rats were on her clothes, specifically panties. That was pretty gross. She glanced to her left, “Shit,” she muttered, “Cops are here.”

“ _You’re_ a cop,” he reminded.

“Yeah, but cops trample over everything you love, tear up your couch cushions, leave finger print dust on every see-able surface. Ninety-five percent of these guys I wouldn’t invite over.”

There was a brisk knock on her door, she sighed, glanced to him, “You probably have shit to do.”

He really wanted to say no, he really wanted to take the first transport out, followed by the first plane out, but that wasn’t possible. “Yeah,” he nodded.

She stood, started for the door, “Right. Have a good day, Sy.”

“ _Listen_ to Birdy, Lane.”

She offered up a devious grin, then hung up.

“Right guys,” she greeted the cops, “Through here,” she knife-hand pointed, “Turn right, second door on the right. Don’t fucking ruin my shit, or I’ll destroy everything you love. Got it?”

The cops stared down at her, “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled, “Great, Birdy’s at the door.”

They stepped in cautiously, then started towards the bedroom. Behind them was a crime scene tech, named Amelia.

“Hey, girl,” Amelia grinned, “Hear, you got troubles.”

“I’ve got all sorts of troubles, Amelia. Forewarning,” she added, “I touched everything, so, we’re fucked on that front.”

Amelia nodded her understanding and disappeared. Jasmine took that opportunity to curl up on the couch and fall asleep, Syverson’s giant sweatshirt her only comfort.


	2. A Bit More Neanderthal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasmine sleeps at the precinct and comes up with a game plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favorite chapter. No Syverson either.

Jasmine was jarred awake, “Hmm?” she murmured out, already half sitting up before she fully opened her eyes.

“You aren’t staying here.” She recognized the voice, but couldn’t see Hughes’ face.

“Could you turn the freaking lights off?” she mumbled out, blinking heavily in the light.

“Decide where you’re going to sleep. Hotel, safe house…”

Fuck that, “I’ll just sleep at the precinct.” Cops and guns, both readily available. The lights flicked off, thank god, she blinked dramatically one last time and managed to focus on her Captain’s face.

“Birdy packed you a bag.”

She stared at him. “Toiletries too?” she asked, deciding to not contemplate the merits of Birdy of all people choosing her wardrobe for the foreseeable future.

Hughes nodded, “Amelia helped.”

Better. “Great,” she sat up, “I need shoes.”

He pointed to the side of the couch, someone had put her boots there, along with a fresh pair of socks, awesome. She fumbled with the socks, stuffed her feet into the boots, and stood, grabbing up her gun and cuffs, phone and charger, along with her wallet. She headed for the door in time to catch a uni saying some type of shit about her underwear. She dropped down onto the porch, gaze lethal, brow arched, the uni, Johnson, his tag said, fell silent. She didn’t say anything, simply let the uni stew in the knowledge that she was going to make his life miserable. Birdy stepped in front of her, leading the way. They made it back to the precinct, she made a beeline for the sleeping quarters, which was really just a room full of bunk beds and cots, she face-planted onto one of the bottom bunks and that was it, lights out.

When Jasmine woke up, it was to the alarm on her phone going off, some nice soul, it seemed, had plugged her phone in for her. She groaned, then slowly sat up, she hadn’t even taken her boots off last night. She dragged her bag closer to her, pulled out a pair of jeans, a bra, and a shirt, underwear was going to be a slight complication. She grabbed her toiletries bag and headed for the locker room. After her shower, she dressed, and blow-dried her hair. Then picked up her dirty clothes to dump on her bunk, she grabbed her purse and phone, and decided she should hit a store for underwear. Though only problem being that, no store was open at 6:45 in the morning. She stepped out of the sleeping quarters to see Birdy striding towards her.

“Breakfast?”

“Yeah. I need to go to a store.”

“Hit the diner,” the cop diner down the street was a 24-hour diner, “then hit the store.”

“Perfect.”

They ordered, took their time at the diner, then headed to the closest Target. She picked up two packs of underwear, nothing cute, couple extra pairs of socks, and a giant chocolate bar, then they headed back to the precinct.

She was staring down at her paperwork blankly, really trying to figure out how to lure this guy into showing his face. Maybe if they released a fake person of interest, maybe he’d call, give himself away. Reece was bent over his desk, practically drooling in boredom. She threw a pencil at him and he jerked, “What?”

“If we released a fake person of interest, you think this guy will show his face?” she asked.

He stared at her. “You-you want to irritate this guy into showing his face?”

“How else are we gonna get him to show his face, say ‘pretty please’?”

“He left twelve dead rats in your underwear drawer.”

“Exactly. I don’t want the rest of my clothes having dead rodents dumped on them.”

Reece stared at her, “Gotta clear it with Cap.”

Fantastic. She stood up, made her way to Hughes office, backtracked and waved Birdy over into the office as well.

“Lane,” Hughes nodded, glancing over Birdy as well.

“I was thinking, we should release a person of interest.”

Hughes sat back in his chair, “We have a person of interest?”

“No.”

He continued his staring, the flicked his gaze to Birdy, who shrugged. “You’re okay with this?”

Birdy’s brows flicked upwards, then back down, “how long we gonna let her sleep at the precinct before we suggest this very thing?”

Hughes sighed, tossing the pen in his hand to this desk. “Wait a few more days,” he pondered.

Ugh, a few more?

“We’re releasing it tomorrow evening,” Jasmine stated.

Hughes arched a brow, “I wasn’t aware you were the Captain or media liaison.”

“It’s the best move, Cap,” she tried.

Hughes breathed in slowly, “Fine, but I want more men on you after it airs.”

_Uggghh_ , “Deal.”

She and Birdy exited Hughes’ office and Birdy turned to her, “Syverson gonna snipe me from two miles away if he finds out about this?”

She pondered, “I don’t know if Syverson’s that good of a shot…” She honestly didn’t.

Birdy didn’t look impressed.

“He let me use myself as bait back in—shit,” she cut herself off, that shit was classified, _remember_? Birdy’s eyes narrowed. She rephrased, “I’ve used myself as bait before and he didn’t care.”

“Uh-huh,” he muttered. “Who are we releasing as a person of interest?”

She shrugged, “We can’t just give a vague description, what if it actually matches up? Then he’ll just think that we’re onto him.”

She thought a moment, then grinned slowly, “We’ll just, get an artist in here, I’ll describe a guy, I know with one hundred percent certainty is _not_ our guy.”

Jasmine went ahead and called the artist and went back to her paperwork in the meantime.

“Yo, Lane!” Reece called, “Sketch artist is here.”

She perked up and joined the artist in the conference room. Originally, she had planned on describing Syverson, because, she did know with one hundred percent certainty that it was not him. But that wasn’t fair to him, so she decided to describe Russel instead.

“Right, but,” she gestured to her brow, “A bit more Neanderthal.”

The artist nodded, made it bit more pronounced. Jasmine grinned, that was _totally_ Russel, yep, that was the guy alright. “Perfect,” she praised, snatching up the portrait as soon as the artist handed it over.

“Got our guy,” she held it out to Hughes, who glanced it over, then did a double take, “You, you can’t—" he started, “This is probably illegal.”

She stared at him, “You know what’s probably illegal, someone shitting on the toilet seat.”

Hughes grunted, “Right, okay, we have our decoy,” he handed the portrait to the media specialist who was eyeing them carefully.

“Everything’s fine, Pam,” Hughes assured, though Pam did not look convinced. “Right,” Pam muttered, then turned back to her legal pad, “So, tomorrow, 5:30, press conference.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Hughes nodded.

“Don’t forget the psychological profile,” Jasmine held out a report, which was one hundred percent bullshit and simply there to further piss off their person of interest. Hughes stared at it, then looked up at her, “I swear, if you get yourself killed,” he muttered, handing the report over to Pam.

Jasmine grinned.


	3. Donuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detective Lane comes face to face with her bad guy--she celebrates with donuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clinical depiction of how the rats were killed. End notes for explanation.

Jasmine was both ecstatic and bummed throughout the next day. Ecstatic because they would be setting their trap this evening, bummed because she had to wait until this evening. Though Irene did show up with the results of her necropsy of the rats. Apparently, they had been killed approximately five hours prior to Jasmine and Birdy stepping into her house. Additionally, the rats were store bought, either for pets or for feeding to pet snakes. The point being, they weren’t wild. The cause of death was rat poison, then they’d been eviscerated all over her panties. _Gross_.

She had finished all of her paperwork, which was a rarity, but she was pretty sure that Hughes had put her and Reece on the back burner in terms of them getting a new case. She twiddled her thumbs and then _finally_ , it was time for the press conference. She watched from the door, Pam nailed all the points necessary, like saying the man was likely impotent and a few other emasculating things, like couldn’t keep a job, couldn’t hold onto a relationship, those types of things. The story would be played at the late news and the morning news the next day, for maximum effect.

And then she had to sit and wait some more. The extra body on her detail was Darion, one of the other SWAT guys. A total badass who looked like a badass but was actually a complete softy, the guy volunteered at the cat shelter in his free time and always had foster kittens at his place, little itty-bitty foster kittens smaller than one of his massive hands. Darion was a solid dude. They finished out the evening without any problems, the stakeout outside her house turned up nothing as well. Tomorrow was another day. She dropped onto her personally declared bottom bunk and spent most of the night combing through some cold cases, occasionally, dozing, but snapping back into wakefulness. This shit was exhausting.

*****

The next day, she and Reece were on desk duty, taking reports on crimes, mostly theft, because Hughes totally hated her and wanted her to be bored out of her mind. She got up to refill her water cup, when she turned back around, there was a man standing in the middle of the bullpen. He looked a bit wild in the eyes, unhinged. She walked towards him, “Can I help you?” she asked.

He turned, crazy eyes locking on her, then he smiled, a creepy, demented little smile, and he nodded, “Yeah, yeah, Detective Lane, you can help me,” he reached into his pants and started to pull a gun, she dumped her 32 oz cup of water in his face and efficiently confiscated the gun without a shot going off.

“What the hell?” Grouch jumped up, some of the water landing on him, as she sent her suspect face-planting in the floor and started cuffing him, while Reece stood both laughing and yelling at her.

“Seriously, Lane, this is some bullshit!” Reece exclaimed, grin wide.

“I know,” she nodded, frisking the man, “What a waste of ice.” 

“Man,” he whined, “How come you always get to cuff the perps?” He stomped away, splashing water as he went, while Grouch barked at him to stop making a fucking mess.

Birdy and Darion stepped out of Hughes office and froze, “You did not just apprehend your suspect using a cup of water,” Birdy grumbled out.

She grinned at him, “You wanna tell your new BFF Syverson, or should I?” she taunted.

“What the hell’s a BFF?” Birdy grumbled.

“Best Friends Forever,” Darion translated, while striding forward to lift the suspect from the floor and set him on his feet.

“You want me to take him to lockup?”

“Thanks, Darion.”

“No, problem, Jazzy,” he murmured, dragging the man along with him and out of the bullpen. Jasmine glanced around, “Anyone know where we keep the mops?” she asked. After mopping up her water, and re-refilling her cup, she went out and got a few dozen donuts in celebration. After distributing some of the donuts, she went back up to the bullpen, ate about four donuts, and promptly fell asleep on the couch off to the side.

*****

Reece glanced over to Jasmine’s desk, her phone had gone off four times in one minute. He got up and picked up on the last ring.

“Yeah?”

“This Reece?” Syverson’s voice rang out.

“Hey, man.”

“Where’s Lane?”

“Hold on, I think she’s still sleeping on the couch,” he wandered over, “Yeah, man she’s still asleep, you want me to wake her?”

“No, I’ll call back.”

“Why are you looming over me?” Lane muttered out.

“Shit, hold on, she’s awake. Lane, boo-thang,” he held the phone out. She reached out blindly and ordered, “Don’t call him boo-thang. ‘Lo?”

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she ignored that her voice went all soft.

“You good?”

“Yeah, you talk to Birdy?”

Silence, “Was I supposed to?”

“You guys are BFFs now, figured you’d call him for an update.”

“How ‘bout you give me the update.”

“Arrested the guy, all’s good.”

“How good?”

“I ate four donuts and fell into a food coma good?”

“That sounds either really good or really bad. Who arrested him?”

“I did.”

“She threw a cup of water in his face, you believe that?” Reece yelled.

“Shut up, you heathen,” she called back.

“You threw water in his face?”

She cleared her throat, readying for another round of ‘Lane you’re too reckless stop being so stupid’, “I’d just refilled my water. He started to pull a gun.” She shrugged, not that he could see it.

He laughed, “You’re the craziest woman I know, you know that?”

“I mean…I figured.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rats were poisoned then brought to Lanes house and eviscerated in her underwear drawer.


End file.
